Scusami
by JustBeBuggy
Summary: Romano thinks that Spain loves him - I mean, that's why he proposed to him, right? Am I right? Anyway, Spain decided that it's best that they take a "break," for maybe forever. Can Romano save their relationship before it's too late? Pairings : SpaMano, GerIta, implied USUK
1. Chapter 1

It was a lazy Friday afternoon when Lovino first got the text.

He was at his office, working on filing some papers with his 'boss,' when his phone buzzed, much to his annoyance. Upon seeing the sender, however, the Italian let himself relax a bit. It was from his lover, the personification of Spain.

Antonio Carriedo was a well-built man, with bright eyes and a broad smile that could light up an entire room. He was the man who raised Lovino, but as time progressed, they realized that they had stronger feelings for each other. After a year or so of serious dating, Antonio had proposed to Lovino, and they were planning on getting married later that year, in the fall. Lovino couldn't help but imagine how that day would be, no matter how hard he tried to ignore his gushy-mushy feelings. They'd get married in the park where Antonio had asked Lovino to marry him, the weather would be perfect, Feliciano would be the best man. True, Lovino tended to have a hard time conveying his feelings towards his fiancé, but he was damn sure that Antonio knew that he was loved. Sighing happily to himself, Lovino managed to direct his attention to the unread text message after a few moments, only to lose his breath and feel faint.

_lovino, i cant do this anymore. im sorry, but i think were over._

He was silent for a moment, suspended in a sort of shock that was unnatural for such a person like him. Clumsily typing his response, the Italian paused before pressing the send button.

_Antonio, I swear to God, if this is one of your stupid jokes, I'm not finding it funny at all._

Lovino closed his eyes as he waited for a reply. This was definitely out of character for Antonio.

" ! I'd appreciate it if you actually got some work done!" An angry, grey-haired boss was staring Lovino down.

His eyes fluttered open and he managed to pull himself up straight. "_Mi dispiace_, boss. I need to use the restroom."

"Hurry up. We're falling behind on paperwork, _idiota_!"

Silently cursing to himself, Lovino pulled himself up from his chair, shoved his phone into his pocket, and trudged to the hallway. No way in hell he was going to text Antonio in the bathroom. Only girls did that kind of thing. Lovino was definitely not a girl.

_Not_

_Even_

_Close._

He checked his phone again. Sure enough, there was a new message.

_im being serious. can you meet me outside?_

Lovino groaned and worded his response carefully. He didn't want to appear worried. He wouldn't give Antonio bragging rights to say that he could make his boyfriend, the great and mighty Italian Republic, scared. No way in hell.

_Uhhm, sure. You okay?_

He was in the elevator when he got a response.

_i just need to talk to u._

Lovino stepped off the elevator, into the lobby, and then out the large glass doors of the state building. As expected, Antonio was standing off to the side, his face unreadable. Lovino headed towards him, his steps shaky and his breaths short. He wanted this to be some dumb prank, there was no way Antonio would break up with him. Not now. Right?

Out of habit, Lovino reached his arms out for a hug, but was surprised when Antonio didn't hug back.

"Antonio, what's wrong?"

Stoney-faced, the Spaniard sighed deeply, ruffling his hair. "Lovino, you got my texts, _si_?"

"Yeah. What the hell did you mean by that? Dude, you gave me a fucking heart attack up there!"

Silence.

"Anto—"

"Lovino, I meant what I said in that text. I'm breaking up with you."

Again, another silence.

"You fucking _bastardo_."

This time, Antonio's face turned red as he glared at the Italian. "This is what I mean! You never consider _my_ feelings, Lovino! I thought you knew that romantic relationships were symbiotic relationships, that both parties are both supposed to benefit! But no, with you, all you ever do is take. Take my heart, take my heart and rip it to pieces, and then expect me to be fine! I'm sick of it. Sick of sleeping alone. Sick of the insults constantly being thrown at me. _Sick of you. _This whole engagement plan was stupid from the beginning, and it wouldn't have ever lasted, anyway."

Lovino was silent, looking Antonio down.

"Well, , do you have anything to say?" Antonio was still red, and somewhat out of breath from his sudden outburst.

"_No?_ What a surprise. The taker can't take the fact that he's never going to get anything out of being an _egoísta_. Nothing at all."

Silence.

"Here, no. Take this from me. This last thing."

Antonio forced his calloused hand into Lovino's still outstretched arm, shoving his gold band into the Italian's folded fingers.

"I don't care anymore, Lovino. It was obvious that you never did, anyway." Antonio paused to take a breath, calming himself down a bit. " I've already moved my stuff out of our, I mean, _your _house, Romano. This ends our personal relationship, I believe. I'd appreciate it a lot if you didn't text or call me from now on. _Adios_."

He left without even a farewell wave, and as the Spaniard disappeared from view, Lovino could feel himself crumbling inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Lovino stopped eating after that day.

It wasn't detrimental to his health at all; he was the embodiment of a people all too familiar with the prospect of poverty, and besides, it was quite possible for any personification to go months without eating anything. They wouldn't die – well, they'd lose a few pounds, of course, but they wouldn't perish. In fact, Lovino was sure there was one way for a personification to die, and even then, the nation itself wouldn't crumble.

Feliciano was the first to notice that Lovino was off somehow, they were brothers, of course. Soon after, Feliciano's wife, Monica begrudgingly admitted that even she was a bit worried for the other Italian; he'd missed four World Meetings in a row, which totally set the order way off. Even worse, the Spaniard had taken up the habit of not paying attention at all anymore, constantly being late to meetings, or sleeping through the entire thing!

When Monica had suggested that she and Feliciano went to check up on both of the personifications, Feliciano was a bit worried at first; something bad must've happened. If Monica, the proud and strong-willed personification of Germany, had wanted to see how his moody brother and the bouncy Spaniard were doing, she must be worried. Like, really worried.

She was completely justified, however, and as time passed, would come to regret that she had procrastinated so long in meeting with either of the personifications.

Feliciano had asked Monica if she could meet Lovino first, since he was afraid he might start crying if something had gone wrong. As she nodded a silent reply, he kissed her cheek, then waved goodbye as she drove off, trying to hold back a few tears. He loved his brother just as much as he loved Monica, and if anything had happened, he couldn't even think about what he'd do.

Besides, all the Italian could do was pray to God that his brother was alright and well.

Upon arriving in Naples, Monica had stumbled off the train, stretched her legs, then found a motel nearby, booking herself a room for the night. Knowing Feliciano's brother much too well, he'd probably ignore her completely, and she'd have nowhere to stay. Monica wouldn't let that happen to herself in her capital city of Berlin, and was definitely not going to wander around, alone, in such an unfamiliar place, even if Lovino lived there.

Following Feliciano's written directions to the Italian's house, she was surprised to find that the front gate had been left ajar, the front garden untended, and most worrying, the large mahogany door wasn't locked. She let herself in, then shut and locked the door behind her.

"Oi, Lovino, where are you?" Monica sighed as she closed an open book lying on the floor. Some of the pages were torn, the cover had a large coffee stain, and more than a few pages were strewn across the parlor. Monica picked one up, examined the text. The entire page was in Italian – old Italian if she was correct, and ink blots were splattered on the corners. Lovino must've written this when he was younger.

Monica massaged her temples with her fingers as she sat down on a beaten-up couch. The Lovino she had known would've thrown this out almost immediately; he was obsessed to the point of insanity about keeping up his appearance – he was arrogant, bipolar, and cried even more than her Feliciano. He was rude to anyone he deemed unworthy of either him or his brother, and no matter how hard she had tried to be friendly with him, the Italian had pushed her away with glares and harsh remarks.

The more she thought about it, the madder she became. How dare he stop showing up to meetings, to disrupt the entire flow of a four-hour long, _daily and absolutely necessary_ meeting that covered everything from the global economy to football matches! Why was he justified in scaring his brother to death, to leaving his home like a pigsty! It was his sole duty as a personification to stay alive and healthy enough to keep his country, and he obviously couldn't do that if he was off sulking somewhere! Without thinking, the old piece of paper in her hand had been crushed into a ball, then ripped to shreds.

"_P-Puttana_! What're you doing in my house, potato-eater?!"

The Italian had arrived.

{{ Yo, it's Kimi here ! ! ! ( ` 7 ` )

I'd like to thank everyone for the support this story has gotten so far,

and to let you know that since school just got out, I'll be updating

at least once a week. This story won't be too long, but

I'll be looking forward to writing even longer fanfics in the future!

Bye! }}


	3. Chapter 3

Monica rubbed her forehead, sighing.

"So you've isolated yourself from everyone else, totally trashed your house, made a fool out of yourself, and now you're calling me a bitch?" She glared at Lovino, trying her best to stop herself from going up to the man and strangle him.

He laughed wearily, popped his knuckles. "_Signora Bossy Bitch Potato-Eater_, do you even know what's been going on?"

"You've been acting like an ass and have been skipping world meetings."

Lovino sat down in the chair across from her. "Maybe I have."

_ Could he at least pretend to be sorry?_ Monica groaned, checking her watch. It was almost 11:30, and she was starting to get tired. "So tell me exactly, why've you been acting stupider than usual as of late?"

He crossed his arms. "Why should I tell you? You'd probably make fun of me like the damn potato-eater you are."

Before Lovino could realize what was going on, Monica was in his face, grapping his shirt collar, pulling it tight. "Stop calling me that! And why should you tell me? Because your brother's been worried sick; crying almost every night because you won't contact him! The entire structure of the world meetings have been disrupted; I get migraines every time you miss one because there's no point in a meeting without an organized structure! Spain's been sulking and sleeping through almost every meeting, and nothing's been accomplished!"

He chuckled nervously, trying to swat her hands away from his neck. "Let go of me and I'll tell you."

She reluctantly eased her grip on his collar.

Taking a breath of relief, Lovino leaned back into the couch. "Antonio broke up with me."

Monica was speechless. "Nein, there's no way that would happen.."

"Well it did! And honestly, I have no idea why!" He rubbed his eyes. _Don't cry, Lovino. Not in front of the potato-eater. Not now. Never cry, you idiota._

Monica coughed. "Sorry about that, Lovino."

Now it was his turn to be in her face. "Sorry? _Sorry!_ You have no idea what I've been going through and all you can say is sorry? Idiota, _I died that day_."

Meanwhile, in Madrid, a very upset Feliciano was eating paella with Antonio. "So, exactly what happened between you two, fratellone?"

Antonio sighed, taking another bite. "I don't know, Feli. It's just that I don't want to deal with Lovino always insulting me. It really hurts the self-esteem, y'know?"

"Si!" Feliciano nodded rapidly, but sighed. "But Lovino loves you a lot, Antonio! Like a lot a lot! Probably just as much as I love Monica!"

"I know, Feli. But that's what bugs me; I love him. I mean, I _loved _him, but there are just times in life where you have to get over things and move on. I think that this was one of those times."

Feliciano took another bite of paella. Thought for a moment. "If that's how you feel, I guess I have to support you, ve. But I really want you to rethink your feelings, Antonio, please. I love Lovino and I love you too, but he's hurting really bad, and I don't know how to help him. I think you're the only one who can."

Antonio let out an exasperated sigh and rocked back on his chair. "Feliciano, I can't. I honestly can't be near him right now. I need some time to think. And besides, him and I are a lost cause, can't you see?"

"No."

He was, for the first time, starting to get angry with the Italian. "Feliciano, you can't fix what's broken. It's like trying to put dead petals back on a rose. It won't work."

Feliciano looked down. "I think I'll be going, ve."

"Feliciano, it's almost midnight. I don't even think the train runs at this time of night."

"I'll walk if I have to."

"Feli, that's dangerous. You can stay at my place for the night if you want to."

The Italian stared at the Spaniard for a long time, a cold, unreadable expression on his face. "Grazie, but I'll get a hotel room."

"If you insist."

"So, what happened with you, _bella_?" Feliciano was sitting on a plush hotel bed, twirling the telephone wire around his forefinger.

Monica sighed, she had been offered a spare room at Lovino's house and was going to stay there for the night; leaving as soon as she woke up the next morning. "Lovino's trashed his house, and is in a sour mood, as usual."

"O-oh. Did he tell you about what happened?"

"About him and Antonio breaking up? Yeah, he did. Did you talk to Antonio, by the way?"

"Si! But I think he's mad at me or something."

She was quiet for a moment, hearing Lovino pacing the hallways. Monica lowered her voice to a whisper. "Why?"

"I told him that he should talk to Lovino again, and then I left without saying goodbye."

"Ah. Well, I'm sure he'll get over it eventually."

"I hope so, ve."

Monica rolled over onto her side. "I have to go, Feliciano. The train leaves early tomorrow morning and I don't want to miss it."

"Okay, _ciao-ciao_!"

"_Gute Nacht, liebe_." She hung up the phone and was about to drift off to sleep when there was a quiet knock at the bedroom door. "What do you want?"

A pause, some shaky breaths. "I'm sorry for being an ass, potato-eater."

"It's fine."

"Night."

"Gute Nacht, Lovino."

{{ sidenote because someone asked -

Monica = Fem!Germany

yep }}


End file.
